The Shadows that Linger
by St. Eowyn
Summary: I decided to continue this story. What happens to those who are left behind after the war. Love, anger and dealing with life an EowynFaramir, AragornArwen, and EomerLothloriel story
1. The Shadows that Linger

FICLET Alert, may or may not be continued.   
  
I don't own it, never have and never will, but if I had, you damn well bet Eowyn and Faramir's love story would never have been cut from ROTK.   
  
The bright star looked out upon the waving autumn grasses of Pelenor fields. Upon the side of the mountain the great tiered city of Minas Tirith looked out upon a now tranquil Gondorian countryside. The White City was under repairs as the damage from the great battle was undone. Some scars would remain on the outer walls and on the people of the land. Many of the brave had fallen in the darkest hours the living were forced to rebuild their homes and their lives out the ruins.   
  
In the darkened chambers of the Palace walls the white lady of Rohan stirred in her sleep. The Witch King in his darkened armor was advancing upon her uncle, who lay bloodied and broken under his horse. The screams of the dead and dying, the thunderous cries of the Orks were all a round her. But in this dream there was no victory, only death. The lifeless body of Aragorn was being drug across the fields, that were now rank with blood, her brother, her uncle, cousins, Merry, her countrymen all perished in the battle. She was running through the city searching for a place to hide, but every darkened corner promised more death. Through each of the city's seven gates she ran, her head pounding, her muscles screaming for relief. She flung herself through the front doors of the palace, and swung the bar down to lock them behind her. She turned around.  
  
"NO!" Eowyn was awake now; the sobbing and tears came from the terror that had been inflicted upon her soul. Her body rocked from the horrors that she had seen in her dream. There would be no sleep for her tonight.   
  
The door opened and within a moment she was staring deeply into the cool gray eyes of her beloved. "I saw you burning, I couldn't escape. There were to many, to many dead, to many to fight." Her voice was barely above the faintest of whispers and filled with desperation and despair. Faramir gathered her in his arms letting her cry into this neck, while she mumbled the horrors she had witnessed that night. "What you saw, was not real. We are here, alive and well, do not let the shadows win after we have defeated them." His hands were comforting to her as they caressed the softness of her gown and wound through her long hair.   
  
"I could not save you, I looked into your eyes and saw only the cold hardness of death." Faramir pulled her away and ran his hands around over her cheeks, brushing away the streaming tears with his fingertips. Her hair was the color of spun gold in the pale moonlight and her eyes although tear stained reminded him of the skies of Ithilien in the springtime. There were no others who walked these lands that could have been any fairer than the white lady or stirred his heart to feel such love for her.   
  
"No my lady, you have saved me as you saved us all." He pressed his lips gently to her forehead.   
  
TBC 


	2. The Ramblings of Men

Author's note: I was stuck in class yesterday trying to maintain focus when my muse struck and this chapter came out of that moment of ambition. I hope you like. As always I own nothing but this poor excuse for a plot. If you find any egregious errors, please bring them to my attention, as I am betaless.   
  
A few dying sconces that lined the gray walls dimly lighted the corridors of the castle in the White City of Minas Tirith. In an upper hall by the King's chambers a large tapestry of great quality was hung. It was a picture of a long forgotten war, the city's dead were strewn about the battlefield, the dying and the triumphant watched as a Steward stood victorious over the carcass of an Ork. The Steward's sword dripped with it's black blood. But like much of the city, the once vivid colors of this work of art had faded over the centuries and the corners had become frayed and threadbare.   
  
King Elessar studied this scene and pondered what he saw. The stewards had ruled his kingdom for nearly an age, in times good and bad, through feast and famine, peace and wars. But during this time his forefathers had hidden in the Northern Kingdom, shirking their responsibilities to their country and their peoples. Had this war never come to be, his rule would have been Boromir's. His fallen comrade was a flawed but honorable man, a man who loved his people and this city. What he wouldn't give to have his council and his friendship, to have had him see the great victory that had been won. Yet it was that so many honorable men had gone to the Halls of the Father's because of this war, just as those that had died during the war in the tapestry.   
  
Life would continue it always did, but those who survived, those who were left had to deal with the consequences. The King may have returned but the brutality of war remained the same. Even with the Evenstar of the elves lighting the nighttime, there were still shadows of the war and it's raw emotions that remained. Their joy in victory was still tainted by the pain of losing the people they loved. It would take years, perhaps generations for those wounds to fully heal, his own nighttime wanderings were evidence of this.   
  
The sound of a scuffle set the King down the hallway to investigate it's source. Eomer had Faramir pinned to the wall, an arm against his throat in struggle. Eomer seethed with anger, his voice spoke in hushed harsh tones. The King rushed to save his Steward from whatever had caused this.   
  
"My brother's, what is the meaning of this? Eomer, release him."   
  
The King had almost managed to wedge himself between the two men. Faramir as always was calm and quiet but his eyes masked the same anger that Eomer that radiated off him in waves. Eomer lunged again past the Aragorn and successfully grabbing the Steward's cloak.   
  
"You bastard! How dare you dishonor my sister? I will have your head for this outrage."   
  
Faramir struggled with the young king's grip as Aragorn pushed Eomer back. "How dare you question my loyalty to her" "Do you not see the darkness that is stalking her? She hardly sleeps anymore and when she does it is troubled."  
  
"How dare you presume to know more of my sister?" "It is not yet your place."   
  
Aragorn was now exasperated. Struggling in the wee hours of the morning with two of your closest companions was not the way to start a day. "Enough!" "Both of you in the library now before the entire household is awoken by your yelling." Neither moved at this outburst. Aragorn was put in mind of two stags facing off at each other, both ready to attack at the slightest provoking movement. Giving up that either would see reason in the hallway, he purposefully grasped Eomer on the shoulders. "My friend, it would not do to wake her now." "Please let us continue this in the other room."   
  
Eomer had no intention of turning his back on the Gondorian Steward, a man he barely knew. Betrothed by Eowyn's will alone, the man had no right to take liberties with her. Eowyn's honor and well being were his greatest charge, kingly duties be damned.   
  
Aragorn tried again, "Come now, your sister does not sleep well. If she wakes and finds the men she loves fighting, it will upset her greatly." Eomer's gaze faltered a moment and he saw no malice in the King's words and finally acquiesced. With a curt nod he strode through the library doors. Faramir was entirely another matter, his anger was still not abated and Aragorn was forced to nudge him through the door.   
  
Aragorn gave a heavy sigh, and wished for a moment that Arwen was present to deal with this matter. Her gentle ways could easily sway the two men to see that in Eowyn they stood upon the common ground. Both of them were charged with making sure her happiness came before all else.   
  
"Now, my brothers, please explain why you are quarrelling about Eowyn?"   
  
Eomer angrily pointed at the Steward, "I saw him leaving my sister's chambers at this early hour, and he cannot give me an explanation."   
  
There was a reason that the enemy fled from this man, his presence was larger than life, and his booming voice shook the windowpanes rattling them as if a sudden storm had come down upon the city. But the Steward was a great warrior in his own right and he was not intimidated by the prospect of being plummeled by his future brother-in-law.   
  
"Only because you will not allow me to speak!"  
  
The two were now again edging closer, exchanging angry words and looking as if they were about to start a fistfight in his library when Aragorn decided to stand between them. Facing Faramir, he entreated him to explain.   
  
"Then Faramir please tell us quickly, before my own wife finds I left our chambers." Then I must explain why I myself am wandering about the castle at night."  
  
The Steward appeared to be deep in thought for a brief moment appeared, turning something over in his mind before he spoke. Softly with a steady voice he began always looking directly at Eomer appealing to him.   
  
"I was wandering myself unable to sleep tonight when I heard her cries." "As are many since the dark days, Eowyn is plagued by night terrors." "Yet while many recover, her terrors have worsened. She dwells too much on the horrors of the past and not upon the victory we have achieved. Tonight she saw our deaths. All of our death's," he added with great emphasis, "upon Pelennor fields." She cried out because we were all lost to her." This last part was barely above a whisper for the anguish he felt at his beloved's heartache washed over him once again.   
  
His words softened Eomer's heart and his angry countenance fell away as he studied the man who had won his sister's heart. He too would have gone to her had he heard her crying, would not also have Aragorn or Arwen? Shame fell upon him for his behavior towards Faramir. The rules of the old court were laxed during the war, and certainly in the aftermath the rules could still be bent a bit. She suffered more than many had as the evil that she touched lingered upon her soul and only seemed lifted when Faramir was with her.   
  
Faramir was after all a Steward, and would have ruled Gondor in Aragorn's stead, he was not a commoner. Eowyn was the one to ride into battle and fell the Witch-King, and if she learned of his behavior towards her beloved there would not be a cave on middle earth where he could hide, that errant thought sent a wave a fear upon him.  
  
" I am sorry for questioning your intentions. I forget that she will soon no longer be mine to protect. Forgive my anger it was unjustified."   
  
Aragorn looked again to Faramir, who was studying the Rohan King for any sign of understanding and forgiveness, and was clearly surprised by this sudden request for forgiveness from him.   
  
"There is nothing to forgive, you are her brother and were she my only sister, I would defend her honor unto my last breath."   
  
At this Eomer let out a hearty laugh. "My brother, you had better damn well do that anyways."   
  
Aragorn grinned at this, as did Faramir, even though Faramir was concerned that Eomer might be slightly unstable. Perhaps it ran in the family.   
  
It was then that the soft melodious voice of the Queen floated about the room.   
  
"Where else would I find the ruler's of our lands but in the library in their nightclothes?"   
  
Arwen looked greatly amused at the scene before her as she ran her tiny hands up the arm of the king.   
  
Aragorn gave his lovely bride a rakish grin at her teasing. "I trust that you two can find your rooms without an escort?"   
  
With a slight bow and nod of his head, the King and Queen of Gondor took their leave for the evening.   
  
  
  
***Thanks to my reviewers!  
  
Writerbrat~Thanks, I hope I got all the quotations fixed. An update is in the works, I have my muse trapped in the closet and won't let her out until chapter 3 is up. Angst/Romance, a bit of drama, does life get any better than that? 


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